


Luminescent

by i_ship_an_armada



Series: Inevitable [5]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Blow Jobs, Flint has hair, Flint is a stubborn shit, John Silver is a Little Shit, M/M, resolved sexual tension and yet...not really because they are them, unwelcome revelations, waxing poetic about john silver's eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_ship_an_armada/pseuds/i_ship_an_armada
Summary: Flint is good at what he does. You can interpret that however you like.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Series: Inevitable [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534355
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86





	Luminescent

Flint stands at the rail, scanning over the view, his fingers clutching at the smooth wood as his gaze roves over the water left to right and back. The sun dips past the horizon line, and there is no ship in sight. The _ Walrus _ follows the path of their next prize, a Dutch merchant trader, heavy with cargo, alone and equipped for defense. She may be so equipped, but not well enough against the _Walrus_, and so she’d run.

They had caught sight of their quarry the previous day at near sundown, and when the sun rose the following day, she had disappeared. Flint wonders if the sea swallowed her up.

He turns his head and his eyes slide over the deck, searching, though he will never admit it if anyone asks. Silver works on repairing ropes at the bow, sitting close to Muldoon as they talk with their heads together and laugh. Something uncomfortable rolls in Flint’s gut and he grinds his teeth as he turns away. 

Billy Bones moves to stand at Flint’s elbow and clears his throat in an obvious attempt to gain his attention. When Flint looks up at him, his mood sours further, because goddamnit if Billy hasn’t been restless for days now and it’s put him on edge. 

Predictably, Billy asks, “Captain, can I speak with you?” He speaks quietly.

Flint wants to say no, but knows that whatever Billy has to say has been brewing for a while. It is best to get it out in the open, whatever it is. “What is it?”

Billy hesitates. “If it’s alright with you, I’d rather not discuss it here on the deck.”

Something in Billy’s tone gives Flint pause, not a sense of foreboding exactly, but more like he is certain he will not enjoy the topic of conversation.

With a tight nod and a quick word to DeGroot, Flint spins on his heel to lead Billy below. He turns once they enter and waits for Billy to pass through the entry before shutting the door behind them both.

Once in the middle of the cabin in front of his desk, Flint pivots on his heel. 

“Alright, Billy. Are you able to speak your mind now?” Flint can’t keep the bite out of his tone. It creeps up and out of him unbidden because right now he needs to be on deck in case they spot their prey. He needs to be ready. He needs to watch his men. 

Watch Silver.

As if thinking about him puts words into Billy’s mouth, Billy says, “Captain, what… _ exactly _ is going on between you and Silver?” He looks like his question is pulled from an unpleasant place, and he grimaces.

Flint stiffens and wipes his face carefully of expression, though something ugly and volatile and familiar simmers under his skin. He barely holds on to it. It wants to leap and lash out.

“Beg pardon?”

There must be something in his tone, or perhaps Billy does a better job at reading Flint’s moods than most, because he shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and glances away.

Flint thinks he will drop the subject entirely, but then Billy squares his shoulders and looks Flint dead in the eye. “I want to make sure that whatever is going on doesn’t cloud your judgement.”

On one hand, Flint sees his reason for this comment. Silver is not the most trustworthy sort. He lies. He is a feckless thief out for his own gain. To be involved with him other than what is strictly necessary is a folly of clouded judgement at best. 

On the other hand, Billy’s words strike the dangerous chord of distant memories and Flint leans forward to show his teeth in what is nothing close to a grin. The moment he does, Billy takes a step backward before catching himself and standing his ground. He straightens his spine and awaits Flint’s response.

Flint gives him credit for his fortitude, but even so, his voice is low and menacing when he speaks.

“I would be very very careful of your next words, Mister Bones. You overstep your bounds.”

Billy narrows his eyes. “I don’t think I do. If we are in a situation where you need to choose between Silver and the crew—”

Flint clenches his fists at his sides and goes still.

The expression on Billy’s face shifts into something like distaste as he continued. “Besides the fact he has no loyalty whatsoever to you, to this crew— to have the crew see yourself and Silver in some sort of relationship…” His voice drifts off and he swallows.

Flint feels his face heat with mortification and fury. 

Billy sees it and holds up a hand. “Captain, wait. You misunderstand. I don’t disapprove of your… your leanings. Well, to be clear, I don’t much care about them, to be honest. I only mean you need to not show any weakness around the men. Your position is precarious as it is.”

“It’s none of their concern. Or yours,” Flint says through his teeth. 

Billy hesitates. Looking pained he probably wishes desperately he never brought the subject up in the first place. “There’s a reason it’s bad luck for women to be on board a ship.”

Flint frowns and his jaw drops a little at the segue. “What does—”

“If something happens and you are distracted because of your worry over someone else, that has consequences for the rest of us.” Billy waves a hand behind him.

Flint blinks, because honestly, this has never occurred to him. “I will not get distracted.” It is an admission, he knows, and he grinds his teeth at the slip and the anger seeps in around the edges. “Now, you’ve said your piece, I assume, so get the fuck out. You have duties to perform, do you not?”

Billy squirms in place for a moment, looking like he wants to say more.

Flint feels no sympathy for him, but also knows if he continues with Silver, it will not be the last he hears about it. He says nothing, waits Billy out until Billy finally caves and nods sharply before slinking away, defeated for the time being. 

For several minutes Flint stands in the middle of the cabin, his mind roiling over the conversation, long enough for someone to come looking for him.

A sharp rap interrupts his thinking. “Captain?”

Silver sticks his head just inside the door and frowns the moment he sees Flint. Throwing a cursory look over his shoulder, Silver enters and strides to stand in front of him.

Concern edges his voice and his eyes skitter over Flint’s face. “What is it? What happened?”

Flint exhales and a muscle jumps in his cheek. “It’s nothing.”

Silver shakes his head even before Flint finishes speaking. “It is _ not _ nothing. What did Billy say to you?”

Flint stares at him knowing this is the time. If he is to break this off, whatever this is, he can do it now. Cleanly. To do so would be to save himself inevitable turmoil he does not need.

And yet, as he looks at Silver, his stomach twists and his heart trips in his chest. On the heels of these thoughts come another that is much more clear and true.

It is too late. 

Much too late. 

They had not touched since their kiss at the inn. In fact, they had circled each other, deliberately avoiding one another by some silent, mutual agreement, but somehow the glances, the fickers of heated looks broke through on occasion, escaping like wisps of smoke through cupped palms of those trying to contain them.

A turn of Silver’s head to stare up at the sails, the way the muscles in his forearm flex when he hauls cargo across the ship deck, the set of his shoulders underneath that ridiculous half jacket he insists on wearing. 

Flint debates whether or not he should say anything more. Silver tilts his head to the side and his eyes rove over Flint’s face, focused and curious.

And then Flint stops debating.

“Billy knows.”

Silver sucks in a breath and his lips go thin. “Alright. And he doesn’t approve, I take it.”

“No.”

Silver glances away and raises his chin. “His reason?”

And Flint tells him.

Silver thinks and looks down at his boots for a moment before looking up again. A muscle twitches in his jaw. “So. Is it enough?” His tone is even and measured.

Flint does not understand and he frowns. “Enough for what?”

“To change your mind about this.”

Flint stares at him, meets his unearthly luminescent eyes that defy reason. He could not think of a single thing that matched the color of Silver’s eyes— not a jewel, not anything in nature except perhaps the sky on a clear day, and even then the sky did not do them justice. He stares until Silver fidgets and looks as if he is about to speak, and Flint has an overwhelming desire to stop the next words from leaving Silver’s mouth. He lunges forward and pulls Silver up against his chest and presses their lips together in a hard kiss.

Silver immediately opens to him and wraps his arms around Flint’s neck. He buries his fingers in Flint’s hair and hums in approval as Flint slips his tongue between Silver’s teeth for just a taste. 

He tugs at Silver’s shirt until it is free of his trousers and pulls it up over Silver’s head to drop it to the floor. Silver does not fight it, willingly complying to Flint’s manhandling of him with a faint gasp. 

It is a compulsion Flint cannot deny to draw his hands up Silver’s bare torso, and he enjoys the ripple of muscle his strokes induce, reveling in the smoothness of Silver’s skin. 

God, he wants to touch it all. Kiss and lick it all in its golden glory.

“No,” he finally rumbles into Silver’s mouth. “No, it does not change my mind,” he finishes, sliding his palm over the front Silver’s trousers, tracing the line of his filling cock and then flicking open the buttons with a twist of his fingers. He peels the fabric back from Silver’s skin and works the trousers down his legs, and then steps back to stare. Silver sways toward him as if pulled by a string, reaching, but Flint catches his wrists and holds them away, not ready yet. Yes, they’ve kissed— twice now— but Flint needs to be in control of this before it spirals and he cannot catch it. 

Silver begins to protest, wriggling his wrists. Flint can see the words working their way out, but Silver stills, whatever he is about to say lost in his surprise as Flint sinks to his knees. 

The breath gusts from Silver’s lungs on a curse and then his lips fall open in shock. A smile touches Flint’s lips for a moment at the reaction.

Then Flint purposefully moves Silver’s hands to his head and places his own hands on Silver’s hips as he leans forward. He presses his open mouth to Silver’s flushed cock, letting his lips linger over the strong, rapid pulse there, and inhales. Silver smells of salt and sweat, and the earthy scent of his arousal, a mixture that sends coils of desire twisting tight in Flint’s belly. He bends slightly and lays the flat of his tongue at the base of Silver’s cock and licks upwards in a slow, steady motion, tracing the vein like he’s wanted to do for so long now. 

Then he sits back and looks up, passing his tongue over his lips. The look on Silver’s face is something he never wants to forget.

Silver stares down at him.

“Please,” he rasps, his voice broken. 

When Flint moves, he opens his mouth to let Silver inside and he shivers in anticipation. This is the best part, the tension that winds his belly tight as he curls his fingers into the flesh of Silver’s hips. Eyes darkening as he fills Flint’s mouth, Silver’s cock stretches his lips, the velvety head sliding along Flint’s tongue. 

“Jesus Christ,” Silver hisses.

_ Yes _. This is what Flint wants. This right here. At the moment, he couldn't care less about the Dutch merchant ship, Billy Bones, or what the crew thought of whatever this is between he and Silver. He focuses on the moment, every nerve ending alight.

Flint bobs slowly and lets his eyes slide shut as he tries to relax his throat. The cock in his mouth is large, but not overly so, and Flint is well aware of his capabilities, even if he hasn’t had the opportunity or the desire to act on them for years. 

His own trousers are now uncomfortable, and he shifts to relieve some of the pressure, but only manages in rubbing the fabric across his already sensitive shaft, eliciting a moan around Silver’s flesh.

“God, look at you,” Silver says. He runs his fingers through Flint’s hair and curls them at the base of his skull, his thumbs curling around Flint’s jaw. He wants to feel himself move within Flint’s mouth, and Flint obliges by angling his head a little while he looks up. 

Silver’s breath catches. A flush rises up from his chest to stain his skin and Flint is nearly overcome with the desire to rise and lap at it, to see if it would spread under his tongue, but he stays where he is.

Later. He can do that later, but all he wants right now is this. 

Loosening his grip on Silver’s hip, Flint gives him some freedom to move, and Silver takes immediate advantage by thrusting inside Flint’s mouth in one long slide. He stops and trembles above Flint’s head, and then makes an inarticulate sound. Flint curls his fingers tighter on Silver’s hips, arresting his movement and pulls off to lick and lave at Silver as he wishes. He takes his time, savoring the growing impatience Silver radiates along with the heat of his desire, drinks it in and stores it in his memory for later. 

A gentle brush of teeth and a trace of his tongue through the saltiness pearling at the tip before he then slides down as far as he can go, swallowing him deep, far enough to have to fight his own instincts to pull off entirely and gasp for breath. 

Silver moans loudly and strains against Flint’s hands, so Flint does it again, and again, and again before he looks up.

And this is where Flint sees it— the realization that comes over Silver that even though Flint is the one on his knees, it is Flint who is in control here. 

Silver is ruined. His lips, now red from his teeth, are open and his eyes are are hungry and full of desperation.

The sounds of Silver’s breathing changes, becomes uneven and rough and Flint lets go with one hand and drags his fingers through the wetness of his own saliva. Then he cups his fingers around Silver’s bollocks, and he rolls them and tugs gently. 

Silver curses and shifts his weight, spreading his legs just enough, angles his hips in such a way that Flint groans, his cock painfully hard and leaking now. He slides his hand back and rubs along the soft stretch just behind Silver’s bollocks until the tip of his finger brushes against silky, furled skin. Flint times the bobs of his head with the presses of his finger. The deeper Silver thrusts his cock down Flint’s throat, the more firmly he pushes until the tight ring of muscle relaxes and Flint is inside Silver’s body. 

Hot and tight, Silver’s body clenches around the intrusion. At the same time, Silver moans brokenly and pushes against Flint’s hand, his movements erratic now. He pulls at Flint’s hair so hard Flint’s eyes water.

But fuck, there is no place Flint would rather be. 

Flint’s eyes drift shut in concentration and pleasure, his world narrowed to the heavy slide of Silver against his tongue and along his palate and feeling of Silver around his finger. He relaxes his throat again and presses forward until his nose is nearly against Silver’s groin and at the same time steadily pushes his finger as far as he can. He swallows and Silver shudders violently above him with a strangled shout, his cock thickening on Flint’s tongue right before it pulses, his internal muscles contracting in rippling waves around his finger. Salty, bitter come fills Flint’s mouth and he swallows, his own breath ragged. 

Silver gives a few more weak thrusts before he groans and his muscles relax.

Flint shakes as he pulls off and out of Silver to collapse backward on one hand, the other scrabbling at the placket of his trousers. Silver melts to the ground next to him and bats his hand away.

“Please,” he says, and Flint is so close to his own release he pushes up into Silver’s fingers without care to any former boundaries he may have had. Silver works his and up and down, thumbing over his leaking slit. Flint throws his head back and he pants, his throat raw and abused, but when Silver leans in to lick his exposed neck, suck sharply at the tender spot under his jaw, Flint’s last bit of control dissolves into dust. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter, until it crests and unravels all at once.

Flint’s thoughts splinter into a thousand pieces as the orgasm pulses through him, and Silver’s hand grows slick with Flint’s spend. He thrusts up feebly a few more times before falling back, landing with his head on Silver’s legs, his chest heaving.

They lay like that on the floor for quite a while, their breathing slowly returning to normal.

“My God, but you are a wonder,” Silver says to the ceiling.

Flint huffs a laugh and Silver turns to stare at him as if he has never heard him laugh before, and perhaps he hasn’t, not really. “Thank you, I suppose.” His voice is rough, like it has been dragged over stones.

Silver looks like he wants to say more, but he keeps his mouth firmly closed and then sits up to wipe his hand on the inside of his own trousers before he wriggles them up and over his hips. 

Flint feels the loss of Silver’s touch like a blow, but moves enough to allow Silver the freedom to stretch and collect his shirt. As he does, Flint rises on to one elbow and stares at the lines of Silver’s muscles along his torso, the raised knobs of bone. There is a thin scar at the small of his back very close to his spine and before he can think twice, he is tracing it with the pad of one finger and asking, “What is this from?”

Silver goes rigid, his shirt sleeves rucked up over his forearms, and then turns to gaze at Flint with an eyebrow raised. 

Flint wonders if it is his touch or the question that has Silver looking at him in such a way.

“Knife,” is all he says, and Flint knows in his gut Silver’s words are the truth. Yet another piece of Silver’s puzzle slides into place and a wave of...something passes through Flint when he turns his eyes to the raised pink line again and sees how close the knife came to Silver’s spine. 

He goes hot, and then cold before he even realizes he is gritting his teeth. 

Looking up, he finds Silver staring back with an odd look on his face before it melts away into a smirk. His eyes glow in the half-light of the cabin.

“Why Captain, if I didn’t know better, I’d say the man who did this to me would not stand a chance against you, if he weren’t already dead.”

Flint feels the flush rise in his face at being so transparent, but says nothing and doesn’t move away when Silver twists around to lay a kiss upon Flint’s lips.

It is disconcerting, what Flint’s stomach does at that kiss. His heart races and he has to press his hands to the floorboards to keep them from dragging Silver back in his arms. One word circles around and around in his brain, impossible, unwanted, and devastating when Silver straightens to finish dressing. 

_ Mine _. 

How can a gentle brush of lips like this affect him so, more so than what they just did to end up on the floor together in the first place?

Silver may have looked ruined with Flint’s mouth on his cock, but Flint is utterly destroyed by a simple kiss. 

Later, when Silver slips through the door to the deck and then soon after the shouts of “SAILS!” float through the floorboards, Captain Flint shrugs on his coat like armor and hopes their quarry gives them a good fight to distract him from the maelstrom of his own thoughts. 

**Author's Note:**

> I eat kudos and comments for breakfast!
> 
> I am ishipanarmada on tumblr if you care to follow. 
> 
> This work is unbeta'd, so if there is anything glaringly wrong, please let me know, because I can read it dozens of times and miss all sorts of things. 
> 
> Cheers!


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